


Frozen

by sundaeflower



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Destiny, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Pre-Series Buffy Summers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 13:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19064032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundaeflower/pseuds/sundaeflower
Summary: Everyone has their cross to bear.





	Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Season 02, Episode 9. I think of ice as a very good metaphor for Buffys life pre-series. Enjoy.

Slamming doors. Harsh voices. The air so thick you could cut it.

It was like that almost every night since she can remember. It came as no surprise when she heard about the divorce. And then this strange man told her she was some kind of superhero with the benefit of dusting vampires.

Suddenly there‘s a new reality she _can_ belong to, and no desire to belong anywhere.

One more secret to hide. Another lie to be told. The story of her life.

Ice skating was a part of her life since she was little. Her father often took her to the ice rink in the nearest arena, but that has stopped as soon as he became occupied with more important matters, like bickering with her mother.

So, she went alone, twirling on the ice like a ballerina on a music box she‘d so often admired from afar. She can shut the world out for a couple of hours, freeze framing her problems to shove them under the ice, still reflecting back to her through the thin layer in the brightest of colors.

That‘s what she did best these days – moving on thin ice.

It gives her reassurance when she feels the vats of her skates brush the frozen ground below, hearing it crunch beneath her feet.

The ice will crack, shards of ice will cut her skin, slipping into her veins to make her too rigid to walk without breaking. And it doesn‘t feel safe at all. It hurts in all the wrong places, cutting of her air supply until she chokes on icicles.

When the hurt is lodged deep enough in her chest she never fails to hit the heart before a vampire could have one good day. Merrick scolds her for her lack of commitment, but he‘s no friend (as he makes clear so often) and she never tells him what‘s on her mind.

Everyone has their cross to bear. Hers is lethal for everyone with a dead heart and cold skin.

Death is her gift, yet she doesn‘t know how to _live_ in this world or how to survive without getting killed on sight.

She walks a fine line between a broken home and a looming destiny, an apocalypse dangling over her head like the sword of Damocles.

Ashes clouding her vision.


End file.
